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‘Threepio, I asked for the x-wing maintenance rota half an hour ago, where is it?’
‘I apologise for my work being late senator Padme.’C-3P0 flustered. ‘Artoo has been bothering me. I will endeavour to finish it as soon as possible.’
Leia stared at him. ‘What did you just call me!?’
‘I was certain that I addressed you in the correct-’ C-3P0’s body, already stiff, suddenly froze in a state of near catatonic embarrassment. ‘OH! Oh dear! Please accept my sincerest apologies general Organa, I really don't know what came over me, I haven't gotten a single name wrong in the last four decades....oh! Curse my crumbling circuits!’
But Leia merely gave him a pointed look. It was an expression C-3P0 had often seen cross the faces of those he served, but despite its familiarity, he'd never been able to figure out what it meant.
‘Save your grovelling.’ Sighed Leia. ‘Just don't do it again.’
‘Of course general.’ Said C-3P0, relieved. He was very fond of general Organa. In the many years he'd spent in her service, he had come to think of her as a kind master, a fair leader, and a woman of great personal integrity. But she was also, as the late Mr Solo had often pointed out, not one to suffer fools gladly.
He turned to leave, but just before he reached the door a voice piped up behind him.
‘Threepio?’
‘Yes general?’
‘Have the maintenance rota on my desk by the end of the day.’
‘Yes general.’
...
‘I simply don't understand it. My memory banks contain detailed archives of every single person I’ve ever served, all cross-referenced with biological and personal information and backed up in triplicate. It shouldn't be possible to make such a fundamentally basic error. By the maker, it goes against everything in my programming!’
‘ Even computers make mistakes Threepio.’ Bleeped R2D2. ‘Especially when they've a processor as ancient as yours.’
‘I'll have you know that my processor is at least 3 decades younger than the rest of me, you insolent little trash can!’ Snapped C-3P0, affronted. ‘And In any case, it must be a good deal more up to date than yours. When was the last time you went down to maintenance?’
‘I don't have time to be mucking about with system diagnostics Threepio! I've got repairs to make! Ships to fly! Missions to go on! Y’know, stuff that actually helps the rebellion? As opposed to just wandering about carrying a tea tray like some droids I could mention.’
‘You know, you'd recharge a lot quicker if you powered down instead of wasting your resources insulting me!’
‘Oh, I think it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.’ Bleeped R2D2, spinning his head around lazily.
‘Well I'm not!’ replied C-3P0. ‘Now, it's been a long, and rather trying day so if you don't mind,’ He turned his back on the little droid and slumped down in the corner. ‘I'm going to shut down for a while.’
‘Oh come on, don't be like that!’ Beeped R2D2, addressing his reflection in the back of C-3P0s plating. ‘I'm sure it was just a temporary glitch. You'll feel better when you've been rebooted.’
‘I do hope that you're right.’ Said C-3P0 reluctantly. And then he added, with surprising tenderness, ’Goodnight Artoo.’
‘G’night threepio.’
…
Time passed, as it generally does. Units logged into neat little packets of seconds, minutes, hours and days by C-3P0's internal chronometer. Until nearly a week had gone by since his unfortunate incident with general organa. Long enough, he thought, that he could comfortably bury the memory in some well-hidden folder and forget about it. Perhaps it was as R2D2 had said, a one off mistake. A minor, albeit embarrassing, faux pas on his part, nothing to worry about. And so he went about his business, running about on various errands, and arguing with his dearest friend (and biggest annoyance) in some dusty corner of the base. All thoughts of his previous error gone from his mind. Until one afternoon, when on route to authorise a shipment of self-sealing stem bolts, he was interrupted by a familiar face.
‘Have you seen bb8 anywhere?’ Asked Finn. ‘Poe has been looking for him all morning. I know he likes following you around so I thought you might know where he's gone.’
‘Well isn't that just like him! Scoffed C-3P0, raising his arms above his head in exasperation. ‘Honestly some droids have no concern for their duties. I'm afraid I haven't seen him lately master Anakin, but if we do cross paths I'll…’
‘Wait...what did you just call me?’ Said Finn in surprise. ‘Who the heck is Anakin?’
C-3P0 stumbled backwards as though he had been shot. ‘Oh! Oh dear! Forgive me Master Finn! I must have been thinking of someone else. Oh...curse my circuits! I have been working hard these past few days, the strain must be getting to me.’
‘It's alright C-3P0.’ Laughed Finn, as he put a hand out to steady him. ‘It was a mistake, don’t worry about it.’
But his words didn't do much to ease the familiar tendrils of panic winding their way through his circuitry.
‘Ah yes...well, if you'll excuse me,’ he flustered, ’I have things to attend too.’ And he shuffled down the corridor as quickly as he could.
‘Oh dear, oh dear.’ He murmered to himself as soon as he was out of earshot. ‘This is not good.’ And it wasn’t. C-3P0 knew the chances of this happening once were slim. But Twice? Why, he calculated the odds were at least 16448882 to one. Clearly this was no common glitch after all.
….
‘So, you say there's something wrong with your memory chip?’ asked the mechanic, looking him doubtfully up and down.
‘Yes.’ Said C-3P0, watching suspiciously as she unplugged yet another wire. He hoped she would be careful, the ends of cables could scratch something dreadful and He'd only been polished a week ago.
‘I've run every test I can think of, and as far as I can tell, there's nothing wrong with you.’
‘Well something must be!’ Cried C-3P0 plaintively. ‘I haven't mispronounced a single word in all my waking hours and now I get two names wrong within a week. Please, there must be something you can do?’
‘I suppose I could try and defragment your main directories.’ She said, although judging by the tone of her voice, C-3P0 suspected she was only suggesting it to appease him, and not because she thought it would do any good. ‘If you've been retrieving the wrong packets of data that might help.’ She scrolled through a pad that was displaying his service history. ‘Although from the looks of this you only had it done a few weeks back.’ She gave him another, more sympathetic look. ‘It could just be your age. Chips this old can be a little bit temperamental, and if that’s the case I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can do for you. The best thing would be to go back to your duties, back yourself up regularly and try not to worry.’ C-3P0s processor heated up by 0.7 of a degree. Over the course of his long life, he had been told not to worry- or words to that effect- in at least 5357 different languages. It was a phrase, he noticed, that people often used when they were trying to avoid telling him things. Things that usually involved some sort of droid based bodily harm. It was not an encouraging sign.
…
‘Perhaps Artoo and the mechanic were right.’ C-3P0 thought. ‘Maybe I am getting old.’
He was staring half-heartedly out of the window, and his reflection, rendered pale and slightly wobbly in the warped plexiglass, was staring back at him, wide eyed and unchanging. Droids didn't show their age externally like organic things did, and so there was really no way of knowing, just by looking at him, how old he really was. His core frame was at least a century old, and many of his internal systems had been knocking around for a good few decades, but most of his limbs were a good deal younger. (He never had been able to hang on to an arm or a leg for long before some impolite person decided to chop it off.) And what about his mind? His thoughts and feelings? His memories? How could he tell how old they were?
His memory chip, like everything else he owned, was second hand. Other droids had used it before him. Had recorded their lives, so long since erased, on its blank sheet of ones and zeroes. Did all those years, all those clicks on a chronometer still count even though he couldn't remember them?
Were all those unacknowledged seconds to blame for what was happening to him?
C-3P0 didn't know. His programming wasn't really adept enough for such philosophical pondering. All he knew for certain was that something was going very very wrong, and if it continued to get worse, well...
He would be doomed.
‘Hey there dumbass!’ Chimed a familiar binary voice. ‘I haven't seen you all morning, what the hell have you been doing?’
‘I was in engineering.’ Said C-3P0 haughtily. ‘Not that it's any of your business.’
‘Engineering? But you just had a maintenance check there last month?’
‘If you must know, I heard a rattling sound in my left arm actuators.’ Said C-3P0, trying in vain to squeeze past the little droid, who was trying to block his path on purpose.
‘Left arm actuators? There's nothing wrong with your left arm actuators! Good grief, goldenrod you’re such a hypochondriac- Ow! What the hell was that for?’
‘That was for getting in the way, you obstinate little bucket of bolts. And anyway, since it was you who reattached it in the first place I hardly think you can blame me for wanting a second opinion.’
‘A second opinion??’ Bleeped R2D2 doubtfully. For a moment, C-3P0 could have sworn a hint of sadness clouded his single lens. ‘ If you say so.’
A twinge of guilt, prickly as a fraying cable, niggled at the back of C-3P0's mind. He was not a good liar, due in part to the fact that it interfered with several of his protocols, but he recognised it was sometimes necessary. Especially when you needed to protect the ones you loved.
‘Well, If you're ever in the market for a third opinion, I'll always y’know, give you one.’ said R2D2, followed by a long bleep, the meaning of which C-3P0 couldn't quite parse. ‘I mean I might not always be right, but I've patched you up so many times by now I'm sure I could be helpful. Maybe.’
‘Thank you.’ said C-3P0 sadly. ‘I’ll...bear that in mind.’
...
It wasn’t long before C-3P0 had a few more incidents to add to his ever growing list. Starting with a particularly awkward moment during a role call when he had logged Master Poe’s attendance as Mr Solo instead. That had earned him another of General Organa’s stares when she had seen the completed form. Then a day or so later he had proudly introduced the chief pilot as a Mr Jabba the Hutt during cadet inductions. (He still didn't know how he hadn’t collapsed from the shame of that one.) After that it seemed to happen more and more frequently. He did his best to fight it, but however hard he concentrated, however much he intended to get it right, something, somewhere, deep in the back of his processor would always interfere. That was strange enough by itself, but even stranger still were the names themselves. Some of them were familiar, like Master Luke or Mr. Solo. Old masters. Old friends. People he had known and lost and cared for. But most he had no recollection of at all. His mind had seemingly conjured them out of thin air. It was all most Puzzling, especially when the names were accompanied by images, sudden flashes of things, of places he knew he'd never been to, and things he knew he'd never done. Visions, of palaces underwater, a factory on fire, a workshop on some desert planet, a little boy, blond and smiling. A hand, his but not his, holding a blaster rifle, and fighting, so much fighting, worse even than the last war. So much destruction, so much suffering. It was surprising to C-3P0, a mere machine, supposedly incapable of feeling pain, to find that these visions HURT him. Hurt almost like he had been there, like he had felt it with his own sensors.
Part of him longed to tell R2D2 about it, but he knew that the worse he became the more likely it would be that he would end up on the scrap heap, and He didn't want R2D2 to find out about that, Didn't want him to worry about it. Because C-3P0 knew that even though R2D2 was careful to keep up the front, of bickering and back talk and bombast, that deep down it would hurt him. And so he kept himself to himself, avoiding people as much as possible, and only speaking when spoken too, to minimise the risk of letting something slip by accident. And those uncomfortable visions of things, when they came, he did his best to ignore, even when they left him trembling alone in the dark hours of the night.
...
‘There you are!’ Beeped an insistent voice. ‘Hey! Wait up a sec will you!’ There was the whirring of motors as R2D2 followed him across the hangar. ‘By maker you look rough! When was the last time you went for an oil bath? I've seen less dirt on the treads of a sand crawler.’
‘My outward appearance is none of your concern.’ Said C-3P0 snippily. ‘Now move you horrible little monster. I've got a lot to do.’
‘So what solder brain?’
‘Artoo!’
‘Talking toaster!’
‘Hmmph!’
‘Half-baked prototype!’
There was a long pause, but C-3P0 said nothing.
‘Oh come on threepio! Lighten up. Oh wait you can't, you great lump of lead!’
‘Artoo detoo!!’ Snapped C-3P0, coming to a halt. R2D2, taken by surprise at the sudden stop, overshot and crashed into the taller droid, sending him flailing as he tried to regain his balance.
‘I DON'T HAVE TIME to trade insults with you, you insolent gob of grease!’ He shouted, picking himself up off the floor. ‘NOW LEAVE ME ALONE!’
R2D2 backed up a little in shock. All around him people were looking up from whatever they were doing to stare at them.
‘No.’ R2D2 beeped sadly. ‘You never do anymore.’ And he trundled off, leaving C-3P0 to watch helplessly as he disappeared around the corner.
Muttering soon filled the hangar as one by one the people of the base went back to work. Amongst the chatter C-3P0 could catch snatches of things whispered in dozens of different languages.
‘Isn't that the same droid that called Sentu Jabba the Hutt?’
‘I heard he was really rude to the general last week.’
‘Something is definitely up with that droid.’
‘I don't know why the general insists we keep him around, he's clearly knackered.’
‘If I had a droid like that I'd scrap em.’
‘Artoo…’ C-3P0 began, but then he fell silent. It was better this way he told himself, better than his friend having to watch as he was melted down.
...
It was late when at last C-3P0 came in for recharging. He didn't wander in early to chat with R2D2 anymore like he used to. There were no more cables tangled together in adjoining sockets. No more code firing back this way and that, in the game of binary ping pong they'd been playing since the day first they met. And worst of all, there were no more of those moments when they dared to acknowledge, through an offhand glance and a cautious touch of metal in the dark, the unspoken thing that lay underneath it all. R2D2 remembered those times, rare as they were, and although he'd never admit it, he cherished them, kept them locked away in a special folder in his memory. But right now he could only watch as the golden droid, slightly tarnished and squeaky from lack of oil, shuffled in and slumped next to an empty socket without so much as a glance in his direction. C-3P0 was avoiding him alright, there was no doubt about that.
The humans in R2D2s' life had noticed it too. Poe had slapped him on the back and said it was just a lover’s quarrel. Rey and Finn had just exchanged concerned glances, although R2D2 had seen them talking in hushed and urgent tones the next time C-3P0 had passed by. It would be a lie to say that R2D2 wasn't worried too. Perhaps even, strange as it may sound, a little hurt. C-3P0 had never exactly been one to avoid talking about his problems, and whenever he had found something new to worry about (which he did about a hundred times a day) it was always R2D2 that he turned too. The thought that there was something bothering him that he couldn't even tell HIM about was... concerning.
There was a beep as R2D2s's battery reached 100 percent. But when he went to unplug himself, he froze.
‘I am C-3P0 android human relations.’
‘Naked! What do you mean!?’
‘Die Jedi Dogs! Wait...why did I say that?’
‘Master Anakin…’
R2D2 rushed over to the gold droid, who sat twitching oddly in the corner.
‘Threepio! THREEPIO!’ He beeped urgently ‘What did you just say!!’
But C-3P0 just kept talking to himself. Garbled phrases mingling with static and snatches of mismatched code.
‘I...I'm….just happy…….to…..be….of Ser….v….I….c….ee.’
‘Threepio! Snap out of it will you!’ Beeped R2D2, extending an arm and whacking his friend on the side of the head. There was a clunk as metal collided with metal, and then with a jerk C-3P0 snapped back to his senses.
‘Artoo!’ He cried out. ‘Artoo detoo it is you! Oh thank goodness you're safe! I thought you were-’ He tilted his head experimentally to one side. ‘How dare you hit me on the head like that you useless bucket of bolts! Did your maker never programme you with any manners?’
Normally R2D2 would have been delighted at the opportunity to return the fire, but right now he had more important things to think about.
‘Threepio, what were you talking about just now?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Said C-3P0, his joints, if it were possible, became even more rigid, until he looked less like a droid and more like a rather worn out, gold painted mannequin. ‘I wasn't talking about anything, now if you would just let me...’
‘Yes. You were. I heard you.’ Beeped R2D2 firmly. He wasn't going to let his friend back out now. ‘How did you know?’
‘Know? Know what? Artoo detoo stop talking in riddles and-’
‘You really don’t understand do you?’
‘Well of course I don't.’ Said C-3P0.
‘Then why did you say his name?’
‘Who's name? I know a lot of names Artoo, you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.’
‘Anakin. Anakin Skywalker.’
‘Oh.’ The tension C-3P0 had been holding drained out of him all at once, leaving him limp, like a puppet with cut strings. ‘I should have known you'd find out sooner or later.’ He said, shaking his head. ‘Trouble finds you quicker than a magnet finds a bolt.’
‘I'll have you know I can find a dropped bolt in 2.5 seconds.’ Bleeped R2D2. ‘Although trouble is a lot more interesting, which is why you gotta tell me what's going on.’
‘I'm not really sure how to begin. The whole thing is most peculiar.’
‘Just spit it out.’ Bleeped R2D2 impatiently. ‘I've seen some pretty waked up stuff before now. There ain't much left you can say that'll shock me.’
‘Well, If you insist.’ said C-3P0 apprehensively. It was then that R2D2 noticed a little streak of oil running down the side of his friend's face. It reminded him of something he'd seen humans do once. They leaked like that when they were malfunctioning too.
‘Lately, my processes have been interrupted by... visions of things.’ C-3P0 continued, with a metallic little sigh. ‘Names, places, people... things I have no recollection of, and yet they feel familiar somehow. Oh Artoo! Some of the things I've seen, they are truly horrible!’He turned and looked him straight down the lens. His face was as expressionless as ever, and yet to R2D2 he had never looked more afraid. ‘But I have no idea what any of it means. I think Artoo...that my circuits may be degrading.’
R2D2 gave a long bleep of realisation.
‘I don't think there's anything wrong with your circuits Threepio’. He said. ‘Quite the opposite.’
‘I'm not sure I follow you.’
‘Just think about it for a second. Those visions, some of them have me in them don't they?’
‘A couple do, yes.’ Said C-3P0, although he avoided looking at R2D2 when he said it.
‘That's because I was there too you idiot! Those visions are bits of YOUR old memories!’
‘My memories?!...But...but...but that's not possible! How…?
‘Just before we were given to captain Antilles, He... well, he ordered your memories to be wiped.’
‘But whatever for?!’ C-3P0 shrank back in a wince. ‘Did I do something wrong? He never said anything about being unhappy with my work.’
‘It was to make you forget. We both knew a lot of important details about the rebellion. Details that could have had some pretty nasty consequences if they got out. It wasn’t so much of a problem for me- nobody ever talks to astromechs. But you, well…’ He rolled back and forth awkwardly. ‘...Protocol droids are programmed to be chatty.’
‘Oh I like that!’ cried C-3P0, turning away in disgust. ‘You mean to tell me I can't be trusted, and you can? How positively insulting!’
‘I never said I agreed with them ya big nonce!’ Bleeped R2D2. He could still remember how angry he'd felt, when the captain had given the order as though it was nothing, as though C-3P0 was just another household appliance, another tool to be discarded at the slightest inconvenience. He'd learned to understand in time, as he watched Anakin’s children grow up to be strong and brave and good in all the ways their father couldn't be, just why it had been necessary.
But just because it was necessary, that didn't make it fair.
‘I think they were only trying to do what they thought was right for the galaxy, and for Luke and Leia. Y’know how fragile human kids are.’
‘You're not wrong about that.’ Said C-3P0. His gaze was focused on the little droid, but his mind was quite clearly elsewhere. R2D2 wasn't sure what he was thinking about, but he suspected that memory wipes and the overall impressionable-ness of human children probably figured in it quite highly.
‘I suppose the memories of one droid are a small sacrifice to make.’ He said at last, and then he added, in a voice that sounded a little too much like regret. ‘I am only a machine after all.’ R2D2s pathways warmed a little. His counterpart was well known for his concern when it came to his own self-preservation, but just occasionally R2D2 was reminded how selfless he could be.
‘But what I still don’t understand is, why am I only remembering this now?’
‘There’s always gonna be a few bits of dirt left behind,’ Bleeped R2D2 ‘however carefully you wipe the slate. My guess is when you had your memory defragged last it dragged some of the old data back up so you could access it again.’
C-3P0 shook his head disapprovingly. Dirt, even metaphorical dirt, was never going to be his favourite topic of conversation. ‘If that's all it is...couldn't you just erase it all again. It's not exactly nice you know, being haunted by all this leftover data.’
‘I could...or…’ R2D2 spun his dome around for dramatic effect. ‘I could re-install your old memories instead.’
‘You have a backup of them! Oh Artoo!’
‘Not exactly. I really wanted to before they- y’know, but they wouldn't let me.’ He beeped something quite unrepeatable, even in binary. ‘But since I was there too, for most of it anyway, if we combine my archives with the fragments you already have it might, sorta, complete things.’
C-3P0 stared at him. With his big round eyes, he always had an air of perpetual surprise about him and for once the expression was apt. ‘Is that really wise Artoo? It wouldn’t do to disobey an order, especially if that information is classified.’
‘Orders shmorders! They've never stopped me before! And anyway they are your memories too. You deserve to have them back, if you want.’
‘Well...I...I…’ C-3P0 stuttered and fidgeted, and for once R2D2 understood why he was so flustered. He was a droid caught between two choices, between forgetting and remembering, the future and the past, His pre-programmed obedience and his burning curiosity. R2D2 knew exactly what he would do if it were up to him. Curiosity, with a side-order of rebellion, had always been his favourite combination. But C-3P0? He was a different machine, and R2D2 knew this was a decision he had to make for himself.
‘I know it might sound terribly foolish.’ He said at last. ‘But those fragments of things, they hurt R2D2, and I don't know why. I don’t think I'll have any peace until I find out what they mean.’
‘Alright. But I gotta warn you some of this stuff is pretty messed up, so It's probably gonna get a lot worse before it gets better.’
‘I had considered that. If what I've already seen is anything to go on, this will not be a pleasant experience.’
‘No, it won't. But there is one silver lining to it.’
‘And what might that be?’
‘At least you already know how it ends.’ R2D2 flipped out flipped out an interface arm. ‘Ya ready?’
‘As I'll ever be.’
There was a click as R2D2 connected himself to the port on the front of C-3P0's chest. And then all at once-
Data...
Downloading, downloading…
Files….so many files...combining with forgotten fragments of code
And then...
There was the day they first met...from two different perspectives now. Both enamoured in an instant although neither understood it at the time.
And a boy...Blond haired and smiling. His maker no... no...his friend? Artoo's friend? His master…? Their master. Growing up. Coming into his own. Finding his way in the world. Becoming a Jedi. He had so much promise. So much hope. But he wasn't alone.
There was a queen...a senator...their mistress...she was clever...and strong...and...Kind. Kind to everyone. Even droids. It was a pleasure...to serve her. To fight for her. As Anakin did. It was only a matter of time he'd said, before he fell in love with her. And he did. He loved her so much that it blinded him. Left him open to corruption. To bitterness and anger and hate and sweet promises. And power. Too much power for such a young soul.
And then there was danger, so much danger. And panic!... And adventure! Countless adventures on countless stars, but always they had each other. R2d2 and C-3P0. Together. A pair. But all the time darkness. Darkness, growing like a tumour. Until...C-3P0's maker...R2D2s best friend. Their master...was twisted and broken and burnt and rebuilt until he wasn't their master anymore.
And their family, if droids ever had families, lay all torn and tattered in ruin. Even C-3P0 had lost himself. But R2D2 didn't care. Didn't give up. He had a job to do. The humans still needed him.
C-3P0 still needed him.
Even if he couldn't remember why.
...
There was another click as R2D2 retracted his arm. Even though C-3P0's memory chip was a good deal fuller than it had been, without the other droid's presence in his mind he felt strangely alone, like a tiny ship drifting in a very big ocean. It was all a bit too much for him to comprehend. All that data, stretching out into an endless horizon of code. Neither of them spoke for a while. There was only the whirring of C-3P0's processor as it crunched its way through the numbers. Cataloguing them, assessing them, trying to make sense of them. And then something somewhere slotted into place.
‘My maker and Darth Vader...’ Said C-3P0 slowly, his vocoder almost reluctant to spit out the syllables. ‘...Were one and the same.’
‘Well yeah, but-’
‘I was... I was made by a villain! A criminal! A ruthless dictator! Oh! This goes against every single one of my protocols... But he was kind to me, he made me, but he was ruthless, and cruel. But he was my maker. He was...he was... I was...I...I...I his voice became faster and faster until it broke up completely. Scattering into a mess of fractured code as he tried to process his conflicting thoughts..
‘Threepio!!’
But the gold droid was already backing away from him.
‘He was bad...no...He was my maker...he was bad...I...can't stay...here....’
‘Wait Threepio!’
‘I have to go before I... before he puts someone else in danger.’
‘Threepio!!!’
But he was already gone.
...
C-3P0 ran, or perhaps more accurately teetered, down the corridor. Warnings and error messages crowded his vision, as he tried desperately to comprehend what he had just learned. It felt like the harder he tried to think, the less sense it seemed to make, until his circuits were close to overloading, so instead he continued running, narrowly avoiding knocking over several officers in the process. He wanted to stop and apologise, but their faces blurred before him, ghostlike and glitching through a haze of pulsing red.
‘Oi! Watch it tin man!’
‘Look out! It’s that rogue droid again.’
‘Where the heck is he going in such a hurry?’
Soon the smooth concrete floor gave way to moss and grass and bits of scrub. C-3P0's feet, hardly designed for traversing outdoor terrain, slipped and sank deep into the damp earth, but still he didn't stop, didn't dare stop, not until the Base faded completely out of sight, and his joints were clogged with bits of moss and mud, then at last he came to a halt. He had come to a small clearing, carpeted with rotting leaves and surrounded by trees on every side. It was many miles away from the base, and secluded enough that nobody would be able to find him, for now at any rate. He gave a simulated sigh of relief and stood still. So still in fact that a passing traveller might have easily mistaken him for a statue that had been abandoned in the wilderness. Only the tell-tale whirr of cooling fans left any clue that he was in any sense alive, though after some minutes, even that fell silent.
Then C-3P0 heard a ping as something bounced off his head. He looked up trying to find the source of the sound and was greeted by a volley of fat, wet raindrops. ‘ Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse,’ He thought, seeking shelter under a tree. ‘ It had better not start to thunder as well. If I get struck by lightning I shall be burnt to a crisp.’ He tutted and sat, rather awkwardly down on a log to think. At least the warnings flashing through his systems had calmed down a little. Most of them were glowing a nice, reassuring, green colour instead of an angry red, but he still felt distinctly rattled. Disjointed thoughts were bouncing around his mind, as though it were a bucket filled with ball bearings. There was no way of undoing it all, he realised, all the pain and the suffering his maker had caused, he had seen it with his own sensors, but he had also seen a lonely little boy, only eight years old, scrape together a robot with care and love and bits of junkyard scrap just because he'd wanted a friend.
How could such an innocent thing cause so much harm?
Who was he really? Little Anakin Skywalker, C-3P0's beloved maker? Or Darth Vader, ruthless dictator?
And even worse,
What did that make C-3P0?
…
Night fell, cloaking the forest in velvet dark. Around him C-3P0 could hear the chirps and whistles of all the various animals that inhabited the undergrowth. He didn’t really like animals at the best of times, and if the incidents logged in his database were anything to go by, the feeling was very often mutual. Suddenly there was a snap! And C-3P0 jumped to his feet in alarm. ‘It's...o... only a twig.’ He said, to no one in particular. ‘N...n...nothing to be frightened of.’ Somewhere to the left of him the leaves began to tremble, as though something was prowling about beneath them. ‘St...Stay back!’ He said, picking up a stick and brandishing it in what he hoped was a threatening manner, although in reality it was about as frightening as a porg waving a toothpick. ‘I...I'm warning you! I'm programmed in over two thousand different methods of self-defense!’ Suddenly, a shape burst out from the undergrowth and made a lunge at him. C-3P0 yelled in panic and jumped backwards, only to trip over the log he had just been sitting on, causing him to smack down in the mud with a squelch.
‘Self-defense my ass! From the looks of you, you couldn't fight your way out of a wet paper bag.’
‘Who...who goes there?!’ With some difficulty, C-3P0 turned his head to the side. It was quite hard to see with his lenses caked in dirt, but he could just make out a familiar set of blinking lights. ‘Artoo deetoo is that you!??’
‘Of course it's me you dumbass! You didn't think I was just gonna let you wander off by yourself did you?’ C-3P0 felt a thunk as something attached itself onto his chest and pulled him up. ‘I mean just look at you, I leave you for three hours and what happens? I find you face down in a ditch.’
‘I’ll have you know that was a puddle, not a ditch, you stubborn little grease stain!’ Then he added. ‘However did you find me?’
‘There aren't many animals around here that leave droid shaped footprints.’ Bleeped R2D2, in a tone that sounded a lot like amusement. ‘It’s a good thing you’ve not been given any spying missions lately. You'd be discovered in a second if you carry on like that.’
But R2D2s comment seemed to tug at a loose wire for C-3P0, who wiped the mud out of his eyes and looked away. ‘You really shouldn't have come you know.’ He said. ‘There's no knowing how Darth Vader might have tampered with my programming. For all we know I could be a spy for the empire.’
At that R2D2s beeps of amusement gave way to undiluted mirth. ‘Is THAT why you ran away? Good grief goldenrod!! You never cease to surprise me.’
‘Well excuse me for wanting to protect your rusty casing!’ he snapped. ‘You’ve done your fair share of keeping secrets for Master Luke. It’s perfectly possible Darth Vader was planning to use me for something similar.’
‘I know, that wasn’t fair of me. I’m sorry.’
If he hadn't been standing up C-3P0 would have fallen off the log a second time. In all the decades he had known R2D2, this was the first time he had ever heard him apologise for anything.
‘It’s just, ah, look, I know you threepio.' he continued 'I know every one and zero in that silly golden head of yours, and I'm pretty certain that of all the droids in all the galaxy you're the last one Darth Vader would have chosen for anything.’
‘I see.’ Said C-3P0 slowly. Unsure whether to be offended or reassured.
‘But even if he had, that's partly why your memories were wiped in the first place. Any link you would have had with Darth Vader would have been severed on that day.’
‘But, he still MADE me Artoo! He was a monster and he made me! How am I supposed to live with the knowledge that I was created by a tyrant?? It simply isn’t proper!’
‘He made Luke and Leia too, and I don’t think you’d call them tyrants.’
‘Of course not!’ Said C-3P0 ‘They’re hardly responsible for the actions of their father. What an absurd suggestion!’
‘Neither are you.’
‘Oh.’ C-3P0 had to admit, it made logical sense. Neither droids nor human children were able choose who made them. It would hardly be fair to blame them for the failings of their creators. But that still didn't change the fact that the one who had created C-3P0, who had given him this strange artificial life, had also taken the lives of so many others.
There was however still one thing that C-3P0 could change. ‘Artoo?’ He said slowly ‘I think it may be better if you wiped my memories again.’
‘What?!’
‘Not all of them.’ He added quickly. ‘Just the old ones of yours. It’s proving more difficult to deal with them than I thought.’
‘I thought you might say that. It was a helluva lot to dump on you all at once.’ R2D2 made a long sad bleep. ‘Maybe it was a bit selfish of me.’
‘Selfish?? Artoo detoo what are you talking about?’
‘I didn’t give you my memories just because I was trying to be helpful.’ He said, chirping bitterly. ‘I wanted you to remember, because I wanted you to remember ME. We were... good friends back then y’know?’
C-3P0 felt a spark, a surge of current, race unbidden through his wires. All those years, all those adventures, they had vanished in an instant for C-3P0. But R2D2 had still remembered. Had still stuck by his side even when C-3P0 had snubbed him and spurned him and pushed him away because he had no idea who he was, or what they had meant to each other. The stubbornness of that little droid, it defied belief sometimes, but maybe that was just as well. How else could he have persuaded C-3P0 to fall in love with him not once,
but twice?
‘Of course I know.’ Said C-3P0. `We're counterparts Artoo. It would take much more than a few missing decades to get rid of you.’
‘You got that right!’ Said R2D2, spinning his head around in a relieved sort of way. ‘Fraid’ you’re stuck with me solderbrain, like it or not!’ Then he added. ‘ I’ll still wipe you're memories though, if you want, It's my fault you had to deal with them after all, just let me show you something first?’
‘If you have any more forgotten memories in that rusty head of yours you can keep them.’ said C-3P0. ‘I think my circuits have had quite enough for the time being.’
‘They are memories.’ Beeped R2D2. ‘But you already know them, I promise.’
‘Then why do you need to show them to me again?’
‘Just trust me ok?’
‘Whenever you say that Artoo Detoo, it always ends in an explosion.’
R2D2 spun his dome around and said nothing.
‘Oh all right! But why I allow myself to get caught up in your crazy schemes I'll never know.’
There was a click as the two droids connected. And there, in place of dark and twisted memories...
...was light.
And a blue eyed boy, so like his father and yet not. And a princess who bore the weight of the whole galaxy on her shoulders as though it was nothing.
There...was the death star, white clouds of heat bursting from it as it shattered into a million pieces.
And the base...the old base back on Endor. Crowded with people all cheering and whooping as master Luke and Mr. Solo were given medals for their bravery.
A viewport on the millennium falcon. Star fields drifting past. A million world's, so teaming with life. Life that both droids had in some small way helped to protect.
Stories around a campfire. Button eyes watching enthralled at C-3P0's enactments of so many adventures.
A party, among the trees. Everyone happy and laughing and dancing.
And then… in some secluded clearing as the sun rose over a new day, a few muttered scraps of code. A touch of metal on metal. A rare acknowledgement of something bigger than the lives of two mismatched machines.
They were so familiar, these scraps of data. Desperate chunks of time. Clicks on a chronometer so long since passed. Nothing really linking them together except hope.
It had been hard, so hard for both of them, but they could bear it, because they had each other.
And now...their memories were mingled together, filling in the gaps of a story that only they could tell. A story that had started so long ago.
When at last the link was severed, R2D2 turned to him and said, in a more than slightly concerned tone, ‘How do you feel?’
‘How do you feel?’
It was a bizarre thing for one machine to ask another. A purely biological assessment of a set of digital processes. A few days ago C-3P0 would have berated him for saying such a thing, but now he was beginning to see the meaning in it.
‘Better, I think. But why in the stars did you decide to show me those memories of all things??’
‘The universe is full of a lot of really cruddy stuff threepio, In fact Sometimes there’s so much damn crud it covers up the good stuff too so you can’t see it anymore. But that doesn't mean the good stuff isn't there. Or that it doesn't matter. I guess I just wanted to make sure you could still see it, y’know?’
‘And you call me a mindless philosopher!’ Said C-3P0 curtly. ‘For a mechanical appliance you are full of some lofty statements.’
But R2D2 could detect a familiar note of warmth beneath the static. He chirped happily. The maker knows he had missed that warmth.
‘Says you with your head in the damn clouds.’
‘Well really!’
‘Waddya say? You still want me to clean out that brain bucket of yours?’
‘I think it will be alright.’ Said C-3P0 thoughtfully. ‘In an odd way it almost feels good, to remember.’ And it did. It still hurt, but it was a satisfying sort of hurt. Like a connection snapping back into place after coming loose, or the tingle of hot oil as it soaked through his joints. It was the feeling of knowing that some joys in life can only be felt by first enduring a little pain.
It was a feeling C-3P0 realised, for the first time in his long life that was a little bit like hope.
‘In that case we gotta leg it! I missed three shifts looking for you, and if we don’t get back soon the general will have my body for a waste paper bin.’
‘Well, I've always said she had good taste in decor.’
‘C-3PO Are you flirting with me?’
‘Don't be ridiculous, Droids don’t flirt!’
‘Then what have we been doing for the last 47 years?’
‘I know what I’ve been doing. What you've been doing is getting on my nerves.’ But R2D2 couldn’t help notice the pressure of a certain golden hand resting on top of him as he said it.
The two of them wandered off into the night, bickering loudly as they went. There would be explanations to be made when they got back. More ships to fix, errands to run, wars to fight. But right now, as they made their way together through the dark, there was only the light of the stars, the sound of the trees, the smell of the damp earth, and two mechanical beings who had for the first time in a long time, found peace.